Stained
by lonegunga1
Summary: Mulder is turned into a vampire, and Scully must make the ultimate sacrifice to save him.


Title: STAINED  
Author: Lizzy Christian (lonegunga1, Hindi Sad Diamonds)  
Email: lonegunga1@yahoo.com  
Summary: Mulder is turned into a vampire, and Scully must  
make the ultimate sacrifice to save him.  
Category: Angst/MSR  
Rating: PG13  
  
1.  
  
I stepped into his hotel room and closed the door softly   
behind me, watching the rectangle of buttery sunlight shrink   
into the darkness. Little light pierced the drawn draperies,   
and what little did was filtered to a deep crimson; a haze of   
blood hung in the air.  
  
I sat down on the edge of his bed and prodded the lump of   
blankets I assumed was my partner. It moaned and shifted, and   
from the end opposite me protruded a tussled head. His hair was   
horribly scrambled as if from a bad night's sleep, and I was   
shocked to see how pale he had become. "How are you feeling?" I   
asked in a soft voice.  
  
"Half dead." His voice was raspy.  
  
I tried to smile. "Oh good, only half."  
  
Mulder sat up stiffly; I could hear his bones creak and pop   
like old hinges. Leaning back upon a mountain of pillows, he   
narrowed his eyes to tiny slits and said, "Isn't it a little   
bright in here?"  
  
I ran a hand through his hair to smooth it, but it stubbornly   
sprang back into the wrong place. "The sun'll be down in an   
hour or so. In the meantime, I brought you something to drink."  
  
His eyes lit up like those of a child on Christmas, but   
dimmed when he saw the white Styrofoam cup in my hand; it was   
filled with water. Still, he drank it down. "Thanks, Scully."  
  
I took the empty cup and set it down on the nightstand.   
"What are we going to do with you?"  
  
"Shoot me." He sounded almost serious.  
  
"Yeah, a lot of good that would do."  
  
Mulder looked at me with something like defeat in his   
starving eyes. With the tinted afternoon sunlight reflected in   
them, they looked almost blood red. "I'm so scared, Scully." A   
slow amber tear slid down his ashen cheek.  
  
I pulled him to me in a tight embrace, stroking his hair and   
rocking back and forth. I don't remember what I whispered to   
him, but I hope my voice was soothing. He clung to me, trying   
to ignore the hunger and thirst I had seen in his eyes.  
  
His breath was surprisingly warm against my neck, like a   
summer breeze. I felt his hot tears stick to my skin and in the   
second it took me to realize it was not tears, two somethings   
sharp pierced the skin and a warm gush began to flow down my   
neck, shoulder, and back.  
  
With everything I could muster I shoved him back. Mulder's   
demon face, smeared with my blood, slowly melted in the soft,   
familiar Mulder I thought I knew. He touched a finger to his   
chin and I saw the repulsion on his face when he looked at the   
blood. The darkness of it was striking against his skin.  
  
"Oh, Scully, I'm so sorry!" He curled into a fetal position   
on the bed and wept red tears; vampires always weep blood.  
  
I pulled some tissues from a box by the bed and pressed them   
to my throbbing neck. They soaked through quickly and I grabbed   
more. He followed the stained ones as the fell to the floor.   
"It's okay, you didn't get any veins or arteries. I'll be   
fine." But I could feel my hands shaking and slid away from him   
just a little bit. The weight of my silver-loaded gun was a   
comfort on my hip.  
  
"But I could have hurt you, Scully. I could have...I could   
have killed you!"  
  
I took him by the shoulders and looked straight into his   
soulful brown eyes, searching for some shred of sanity. I   
seized it with a fire until he stopped wailing. "You didn't,   
Mulder, you didn't." I took a deep breath. "You're just   
hungry, that's all. Nothing we can't fix."  
  
"No, don't..."  
  
But I had already drawn my pocketknife. I flipped open the   
blade and pressed the tip of it to my left forearm, leaving my   
right hand free in case I needed the gun. I pushed the blade   
in, letting it draw just a little blood before slashing downward   
and opening myself to him. His demon showed itself again at the   
scent of my pain. It looked up at me with Mulder's eyes still   
pleading for me to stop, but the monster had taken over the   
body. It latched onto me like a feeding leech without the   
painkillers. As the sanguine fluid flowed down my arm, as it   
seeped into all the little cracks and crevices of my hand, and   
as I felt his teeth pierce my skin and his tongue inside the   
wound I was overcome by the desire to give him all that was in   
me, let him live on my life and feed until I was dry. I wanted   
him to devour me.  
  
Through the ecstasy of my pain I felt him pull away. His   
human eyes in his human face could not look at me as he said,   
"That's enough."  
  
"Are you sure?" He nodded.  
  
Shaking just a little, I rose from the bed. Blood dripped   
onto the shag carpeting as I made my way to the bathroom. I   
closed the door behind me, not wanting to see him lick the rug.   
I knew he was still hungry, that he had stopped himself before   
he was ready. Would he always have that ache, that undeniable   
hunger in him no matter how much he fed? Would he have to live   
with a need for other people's lives to sustain his own? I   
didn't want to think about it.  
  
In the medicine cabinet I found some peroxide and used it to   
clean the cuts on my neck and arm. There was also a moldy box   
of tiny Band-Aids, not nearly big enough to cover the slash I   
had made. It was deeper than I first thought, still oozing a   
little bit of blood. I took a small towel from the pile next to   
the tub and tore it into strips. It would have to do until we   
could find some gauze and bandages. And holy water. Vampirism   
can't be transferred through just a bite, but it would be   
comforting to clean the marks with a bit of holy water. I was   
amazed at how much I had learned about vampires in the last few   
days, when a week ago I thought they didn't exist. I looked into   
the mirror and saw the dark circles under my eyes, sharp and   
dark like bruises against the pallor of my skin. Perhaps I had   
given too much that time, but it never felt like enough.  
  
Past my reflection, I saw the darkening of the sky. Darkness   
emerged from the screaming reds and gentle purples of twilight.   
The sun sank beneath the horizon and suddenly Night had come.  
The room was pitch dark when I finally returned. I guess   
artificial light is as painful to the nearly dead as sunlight.   
I found him by sound alone and laid a hand on his shoulder.   
"Let's go see Buffy."  
  
  
2.  
  
Moonlight glittered through the lofty windows of the Magic   
Box, casting silver shadows over our small group huddled around   
the giant antique table. The orange lamps were dim enough for   
Mulder's comfort, almost too low to read by, but no one seemed   
to mind. We were united in our common, impossible cause: to   
find a cure for him.  
  
I felt strangely at home amid the bookshelves of the Magic   
Box. That musty smell of knowledge still hung as heavily here   
as it did in my med school library where once I had toiled for   
hours and lost myself among the great volumes of literature and   
science. Though the writings in these books knew nothing of the   
science I loved, they represented the past and the future, bound   
together in worn leather and yellowed pages. There was   
something mysteriously spiritual about it.  
  
Still, the line had to be drawn somewhere.  
  
"Werewolves? Mummies? Demons? You guys actually believe in   
this stuff?"  
  
"Dated one," answered Willow, Xander, and Buffy at once.   
  
"Used to be one," piped Anya.  
  
The four of them sat at the head of the table, each with a   
stack of books in front of them. I could tell that the writings   
weren't in English and that translating them would take hours.   
I didn't know how to express my gratitude; they knew the task   
was futile, but they refused to give up. I wasn't much help,   
still having trouble accepting the fact that my partner had   
become a vampire. It was so unreal, like a dream from which I   
couldn't wake. But the marks on my arm, still radiating a dull   
ache, told me that reality had taken a twisted but very real   
turn. A few nights ago, my best friend had been turned undead   
and I had witnessed his soul returned; he had drunk from my   
veins; I had felt his fangs sink into me, and still I did not   
want to believe.  
  
Yet these people, this small group of outcasts, lived my   
nightmares every day, faced creatures even my darkest thoughts   
couldn't conjure. Xander, the crazy one, quick with the jokes   
but faster with a helping hand: he reminded me of a young   
Mulder. I found myself trusting him completely, knowing he   
would take care of me and be a shoulder to lean on. Then came   
Willow, the quiet, goofy brain with mockingly natural red hair.   
Anya was newly human and it showed; she just didn't seem   
comfortable in her own skin yet. From the way she leaned on   
Xander's arms, it was clear that he was quite comfortable inside   
her skin. Giles, the nerd: if I had watched Twilight Zone   
instead of the learning channel as a kid, I could easily see   
myself in his shoes. He was the father of the group, a leader   
without being overbearing. I respected him a great deal. And   
Buffy, the so-called Chosen One, savior-of-the-world Slayer.   
She was just a kid, barely out of high school, and yet she had   
seen more strange things in a few years than I had in my   
lifetime. I had seen the way she dealt with the undead, and I   
was glad Mulder had his soul back. Still, if push cam to shove,   
I trusted her to make the right decision and stop him before he   
hurt anyone.  
  
I hated feeling this way toward Mulder. I trusted him with   
my life, my soul, my heart. He was my friend in every sense of   
the word and yet some little part of me feared him. He could   
kill me in a heartbeat, suck me dry on a whim. And the worst   
part was, I wanted him to.  
  
Mulder, my precious Mulder...I looked at him and he looked so   
human, so innocent and scared. But he wasn't human anymore.   
What he had almost done the night he died reminded me of that.   
He was better now, thanks to the Slayer and her "scoobies."   
Still not quite fixed, but better. His body was warm next to   
mine, alive but not quite. I was troubled by the look in his   
eyes.  
  
With a startlingly loud noise, Buffy slammed her book closed   
and sent a puff of dust into the air. "This is pointless.   
There's all kinds of stuff in here about how to kill vampires,   
but nothing on changing 'em back."  
  
Willow and Xander, too, closed their volumes in disgust and   
defeat. Xander said gruffly, "Lots of humans turning into   
vampires. No vampires turning into humans."  
  
Anya's voice joined the beaten chorus. "Well, even if we   
could do an exorcism and get the demon out, the body is still   
essentially dead. No breath, no heartbeat. Take out the demon   
and all you get is dust."  
  
"Thank you for being so painfully blunt, Anya," I said, my   
voice a little more sarcastic than I meant it to be, "but we   
need some optimism if we're going to make any headway."  
  
"That's right!" Willow looked up with enthusiasm and smiled   
widely. I was really beginning to like her. "Buck up, buckers,   
we gotta make with some head. Okay, that sounded kinda gross,   
but we're gonna de-vamp that guy if we have to tear through   
every one of these old books...twice."  
  
"Yes, well, thank you Willow, but I don't think that will be   
necessary." Giles stepped into the small circle of lamplight,   
carrying a massive leather-bound text. Its cover was cracked and   
scratched with age, the edges of its once-gilded edges yellow   
and torn. What little I could see over his shoulder showed a   
language too ancient for the history books, written in ink so   
faded that it was hardly discernable from the paper on which it   
was written.  
  
"It says here that there has been at least one case in which   
a vampire has been returned to a state of humanity. About 5000   
BC, in Egypt, a young woman sacrificed herself on the altar of   
Isis in the name of her betrothed, who had been turned into a   
vampire against his will. The goddess was apparently so moved   
that, um, yes, 'She returned true life to his bones and banished   
Evil from him forever.'"  
  
"Y'know, Giles, you really need to be smoking a pipe when you   
say intelligent stuff like that." Xander, of course.  
  
Buffy managed to stay on task. "Okay, so the guy's   
girlfriend killed herself and the guy de-vamped? But that   
doesn't really help us 'cause Mulder doesn't have a girlfriend   
to kill herself. And besides, there aren't any temples of Isis   
around here."  
  
"True," said Giles, "but at least we have some place to   
start. Start, uh, cross-referencing animal sacrifices and   
Egyptian and death mythology. Keep searching, everybody...we're   
bound to turn up something." He gave me a sorry look and then   
went back up the ladder to the book loft.  
  
But I was already done. I knew what I had to do to get   
Mulder back: the answer lay in those timeworn pages, in the   
ancient symbol lovingly inscribed on there. I had seen that   
symbol once before, and I would see it one final time before I   
spilled my blood upon it.  
  
  
3.  
  
The sun had just spilled over the horizon when we arrived at   
the hotel. I felt it pushing against the heavy curtains like a   
living force, and Mulder shrank from it as if it would strike   
him.  
  
"Are you sure you don't wanna stay in Spike's crypt today?   
He has cable: you can watch 'Passions' together," I said as I   
set a brown shopping bag on top of the mini fridge.  
  
"That show's gone entirely downhill since Sheridan got   
amnesia." He paused and the silence was deafening. The dead   
make no noise. "Besides, I'd rather sleep in a bed than a   
coffin."  
  
"I can see why. Besides, they got us all this free lamb's   
blood from the butcher shop, so you won't have to pay him for   
food." I tried to make my voice sound light, playful, like   
drinking animal blood was a normal thing for him. It saddened   
me to realize that it was. Mulder could never kill a human, so   
he was doomed to drink the run-off from butcher shops. I would   
gladly open my veins to him again, but I knew he wouldn't   
accept; he couldn't hurt me even when he was alive. I felt   
almost disappointed that I would never feel his bite again; I   
would miss being his chalice.  
  
I pushed those thoughts from my mind as quickly as I could.   
If everything went as planned, he wouldn't have to feed from   
anything. I set about arranging the jars of blood in the mini   
fridge, with the oldest in front so nothing would go bad. I   
wondered briefly if rancid blood tasted anything like rancid   
milk, but decided I didn't want to know.  
  
I turned to find him stripped to his boxers and climbing into   
bed. He didn't seem the least bit shy or ashamed being that   
scantily clad around me. He looked almost comfortable. A hot   
flush crept up my cheeks and I turned to go into my own room.   
His voice made me stop, "Don't go."  
  
"Mulder, I'm tired." I didn't turn around; maybe if my voice   
was stern enough, he'd let me go without saying good-bye.  
  
"I know, but I don't want to be alone." I looked despite   
myself and his puppy-dog eyes seized me.  
  
"Fine," I said and settled into a bedside chair, trying to   
get comfortable.  
  
In what was quite possibly the most pathetic voice I'd ever   
head, he said, "No, with me?" He patted the sheets beside him   
and I felt myself melt.  
  
I went to him, but slowly, trying not to seem too eager. I   
took off my shoes and slid in beside him. His arm slid around   
my stomach, touching the bare sliver of flesh between the   
waistline of my skirt and the bottom of my blouse; his touch was   
electric. He pulled me close and spooned up against me, sending   
purely feminine tingles all through me. In that moment I became   
aware of my true feelings toward him and it was overwhelming.   
Hot tears burnt my eyes with the strength of that revelation.  
  
I loved him.  
  
"Good night, Scully," he whispered, his mouth so close I   
could feel his lips brush my ear.  
  
"Good night, Mulder," I answered. My voice was shaky.   
Please don't hold me like you love me.  
  
"Sleep tight," he sighed into my hair. He still breathed out   
of habit.  
  
"Sweet dreams." Don't you know...can you know..?  
He kissed my cheek softly. Why do you make me love you?  
  
I waited for him to drift off to sleep before I let the tears   
fall.  
  
4.  
  
I watched him sleep. I don't know how long I lay there   
listening to the absolute silence of him beside me. He looked   
so still, but not the drifting stillness of sleep. What lay   
next to me was, undeniably, a corpse. I was frightened at first   
when he stopped breathing, and I tried to check for a pulse.   
How stupid of me; of course he would have no pulse, no need for   
oxygen. I touched his skin and it was still warm, alive in a   
way. His eyes twitched beneath their pale lids, and I wondered   
what he was dreaming. I ran my hands through his hair, soft and   
fine like silk, and he moaned a little in his death-like sleep.   
It hurt in so many ways to feel him against me, his arms around   
me, and hear the quiet little sounds he made. I wanted to feel   
this every night. I leaned over and kissed him gently, a soft   
brush of my lips on his. "Goodbye, Mulder. I'm so sorry."  
  
I slipped away a few hours after dawn. Any other day I would   
be just waking up. My body ached for sleep and for him. It   
would get neither.  
  
The sun burnt my eyes, so long hidden in the dark. I pulled   
the shades closed in my hotel room and felt more at ease. I   
don't know why I was changing my clothes; they would get ruined   
anyway. But I slid out of my crumpled suit and into a pair of   
jeans. Just three days ago they had been too tight on me. Now   
they were comfortably loose. What a great time to be losing   
weight, I thought. I hung my wrinkled blouse on the only hanger   
I had brought and pulled on the first T-shirt I could find. It   
was light blue, with a picture of a baby penguin on it. Mulder   
had given it to me on the first Christmas we spent as partners.   
I smiled, remembering the look on his face when he handed the   
box to me. He was so afraid I wouldn't like it. We had been so   
young in those days, so ignorant and unexpecting of everything   
to come. We hadn't known each other more than a few months.   
Now ages had passed, and still we were feeling each other out.   
My heart grew heavy as I thought of him finding me in that pit   
of hell...  
  
But I couldn't think of that, not now. Still so much to get   
done. I ran a brush through my thick hair and tied it back with   
a light blue scrunchie. I didn't bother with make-up, just   
slipped on my most comfortable tennis shoes and grabbed some   
sunglasses.  
  
The sun was warm on my skin and the glasses kept me from   
going blind as I ventured into the light. The Magic Box was   
just a few blocks away and walk would do me good. With the   
milky sunlight surrounding me and fresh air in my lungs, things   
didn't look so dark. In those few blocks, I managed to convince   
myself that everything would be fine and that Mulder's pain of   
losing me would fade. He would be all right, and he would be   
human. My death was the only thing that would bring him freedom   
to come into the light again.  
  
Anya looked surprised to see me. "Well, little lady, what   
are you doing out and about so early in the morning?"  
  
"Couldn't sleep, thought I'd do some more research," I lied   
straight-faced.  
  
I wove my way through the early morning shoppers to the back   
bookcase. I ran my fingers over each leather-bound spine,   
scanning for the right one. Most of the letters were still   
foreign to me, but I knew enough now to recognize the symbols   
lovingly etched into the soft hide wrapped around the Egyptian   
myths. I pulled it off the shelf, amazed at its weight. It was   
at least three inches thick, thin papyrus all of it. "Hey,   
Anya, is it okay if I take this back to the hotel with me?"  
  
She looked as though I'd asked her to hand over her first-  
born. "Giles doesn't like other people handling his books."  
  
"I know. I'm sure he won't mind, though. Please?" I didn't   
give her any time to answer, just left her standing there with   
open mouth. On my way out, I spied a shelf of ceremonial knives   
and, making sure she couldn't see me, slipped one into my   
pocket. It made an awkward bulge, but I could hide it easily   
with a well-placed hand. They would get it back soon enough.  
  
I studied the knife carefully when I was far enough away from   
the store. The long silver blade gave way to a golden hilt,   
topped by an eagle with outstretched wings. And ankh surrounded   
by rays of the sun was carved just beneath the handgrip. It was   
perfect and deadly.  
  
5.  
  
I didn't know the catacombs, not really, these ancient   
tunnels deep inside the earth. I recalled only dim flashes   
between waves of darkness. The stones were rough to the touch,   
itchy like dead skin. The ground swelled and swayed beneath me   
as though trying to knock me off. Somewhere, far off, I heard   
the steady drip of water into a shallow pool. The scent of   
loneliness and death hung heavy in the frigid air, and I   
shuddered. Still I ventured deeper, until the beam of the   
flashlight in my shaking hand was all but swallowed in the   
overwhelming black. It was not the light that guided me, but   
rather the ghost of a fragrance: the sharp metallic scent of   
blood. It was smeared on the walls like cave paintings, dripped   
on the floor like a trail of breadcrumbs begging to be followed.   
This was a place of death and human suffering. And still deeper   
I went, until the smell and the fear became almost touchable and   
I knew where I was.  
  
The small yellow beam reflected off silvered walls and I was   
blinded by the sudden light. Unlit torches hugged the walls,   
and I lit them with the matches in my pocket.  
  
The cavern was huge, the size of a cathedral with the same   
domed ceiling. Mosaics covered the floor, depicting scenes of   
beauty and torture and some that were a mix of the two. Veins   
of silver and precious metal wove through the stone walls,   
making the golden torchlight cast strange shadows everywhere. In   
the center of the great circle lay the knot of Isis, surrounded   
by blood, my blood from a previous sacrifice of a darker   
purpose. I gently touched the rusted chains lying beside it,   
and felt again their bite on my wrists. Another set of shackles   
hung from the opposite wall, still stained with the blood of a   
struggle. More puddles of sanguine fluid pooled throughout the   
room, but these two were the most fresh.  
  
I stood in the center, my feet resting on the turquoise blue   
symbol, and lay the book in front of me. On its withered pages   
was inscribed the same sign, with the incantation to bring forth   
its goddess scribbled in Giles' delicate scrawl in the margins.  
I stared at it for a great while and wondered what would happen   
when I spoke the words. I'm a Catholic, born and raised to   
believe in one absolute God. The cross hanging from my neck  
was a testament to it. I had never entertained the thought   
that these mythical beings could exist, and yet I was about to   
call on one, offer myself to one. Blasphemy, pure and simple.   
But I had no other choice.  
  
I knelt on the cold stone floor and a chill rose through me.   
My hands shook as I pulled the dagger from my pocket and lay it   
to the right of the book. The words were simple, respectful,   
and to the point, and I spoke them quickly before I lost what   
little nerve I had left. My voice was soft and shaking.   
"Goddess Isis, Lover of Osiris, Great One of the Next World, you   
humble Servant calls upon you for a favor. Come forth, Goddess   
Isis, and bless me."  
  
There was no great wind, no flash of light or clap of   
thunder, but something changed. The air in front of me seemed   
to shimmer, but it didn't. It was like the universe opened up   
before me, bent and shifted to allow her through. I cannot   
describe it, but instantly She stood in front of me, a vision of   
beauty. She wore a simple white dress that moved in some unseen   
wind and shimmered like the stars. Her skin was flawless, the   
color of the Nile, and it radiated warmth. Her hair, black as   
night, hung to her waist and moved in the same wind. Black   
bangs reached toward perfectly sculpted eyebrows above almond-  
shaped black eyes. Those eyes drew me into her like a tide,   
ready to swallow me whole. Her voice flowed around me like a   
warm wave as she said, "My Child, show me your pain."  
And then I was drowning in her eyes, letting them suck me   
down and down into her, until I was swallowed up in her comfort.  
  
6.  
  
One week earlier.  
  
Silver starlight trickled through the trees. The scent of   
wet grass hung in the air like a memory or a promise and the   
night breeze tasted of flowers. Somewhere far off a single   
cricket wove its music and sought an answer. All around me was   
sound-filled silence, a quiet hush that only cemeteries have. A   
peace, almost, a certainty and finality.  
  
But I didn't get to enjoy any of it because I was too busy   
trying not to roll my eyes until they fell out of my head.   
"Mulder, what the hell are we doing out here? It's almost two   
in the morning, it's getting cold, and I haven't slept in three   
days because you've been too busy vampire hunting! Can't we   
just go back to the hotel and sleep?" It didn't matter that he   
wouldn't listen to me. He never did. It just felt good to   
listen to something other than the cricket and the sleep of the   
dead.  
  
"We're not hunting, Scully, we're waiting. I have it on good   
authority that his young man is going to rise from his grave."   
He closed his eyes and leaned back against a fresh headstone   
with the name "Edward Thoreaux" scratched into it. The mound of   
earth beneath him was still soft, not yet settled with age, with   
funeral footprints still clearly visible. Flowers still sat   
atop the stone. Most of them weren't even wilted yet. The   
young man now deep inside the earth had died only a few days   
ago, found in an alley without a drop of blood in his veins.   
I'd read the coroner's report and made the mistake of mentioning   
the bite marks on his neck.  
  
"Mulder, do you realize how crazy that sounds?" I began a   
slow pace around the gravesite. The tombstone temporarily   
blocked him from view. "Besides, even if vampires are real,   
shouldn't this be a job for your precious 'Slayer'?"  
  
All was silent, so apparently he had no witty comeback. That   
worried me; he always had a witty comeback. I dropped into a   
crouch and drew my gun, hiding behind the great stone slab. I   
waited a moment for my pulse to slow and then darted around the   
edge of the headstone.  
  
The ground was bare, no Mulder in sight. I squeezed the gun   
a little tighter and prayed for some semblance of calm. I knelt   
by the mound of earth and saw a few skid marks as if there had   
been a brief struggle, and two deep lines from something being   
dragged.  
  
Suddenly something large toppled me to the ground. I rolled   
onto my back and tried to aim my gun, but it has knocked from my   
hands before I could begin to point it. A heavy weight pressed   
against my chest and I gasped for breath. Hands, I don't know   
how many pairs, held me against the wet ground and one crushed a   
cloth over my mouth. I struggled as well as I could, but the   
darkness was coming so quickly, so easy to let it win. I felt   
myself lifted off the ground as the sweet elixir of sleep   
conquered me.  
  
***  
  
First I became aware of the pain, a dull throbbing all over   
my body but concentrated right behind my eyes. Every muscle   
screamed at me until I thought I would faint. I tried to open   
my eyes but some dim light sent stabbing needles of agony into   
my brain. The world swam beneath me for a moment and I fought   
the urge to throw up. I would have collapsed to the ground were   
it not for the shackles supporting me. Two heavy metal cuffs   
wrapped tightly around my wrists, attached by short chains to   
metal spikes buried deep in the ground. I was kneeling on some   
sort of marble mosaic.  
  
When I was able to look around and not pass out, I saw Mulder   
chained to the wall opposite me; he was still unconscious, with   
heavy metal restraints around his wrists. His were attached to   
the stone wall above him so that his arms hung over his head as   
he sat. A trickle of blood had dried on the right side of his   
face and began to flake off onto the floor. I called his name   
but my voice was barely more than a scratchy whisper. "Mulder!"  
  
He groaned a little and his head rolled around on his   
shoulders. I prayed for him to wake up. At last he opened his   
eyes, squinting in the torch-tinted darkness as if a thousand-  
watt bulb was hanging in front of his eyes. His voice was raspy   
as he spoke. "Scully?"  
  
"Yes," I told him, "I'm right here. Mulder, can you move?"  
  
"It hurts...my wrists...I'm chained to the wall."  
  
"I know, me too, but can you feel your legs and everything?"  
  
He twitched his feet, which by the expression on his face was   
nothing short of sheer agony. "Yeah, I'm okay. Are you?"  
  
"A few scrapes and bruises, but otherwise peachy," I lied.  
  
Movement behind me caught my eye, and I turned so quickly   
that my head swam again. I fought the brilliant colors   
exploding in my brain and focused on the thing taking shape   
through them. It was a woman, tall and skinny. Her skin was   
like cream, hair as dark as the night. Dark red lips smiled   
under expertly applied gloss. Her dress was a shimmering   
silver, some kind of ceremonial robe. But what struck me   
hardest was her eyes: they were a deep crimson, like two pools   
of blood set into the marble of her face. She smiled with those   
sinful lips and glided toward me; there was no other way to   
describe the way she moved, like the universe folded back,   
bowing and scraping to let her through.  
  
She stood between me and Mulder, so close that I could have   
reached out and touched if I wanted to and wasn't chained down.   
A scent of flowers followed her, but underneath it was something   
darker. I tried to place the perfume and realized with a   
shudder that no perfume smelled like that. It was the coppery   
scent of blood.  
  
"So glad you two woke up," she said, her voice like fur   
rubbing inside my skin. The sound of it made me squirm with   
something like displeasure, but at the same time I wanted her to   
speak again. "Now the ceremony can begin." She rolled those   
words around on her serpent tongue as if they were fine wine.  
  
"Ceremony? What ceremony?" I cried, my voice much higher   
than it should have been.  
  
She flowed towards Mulder and ran a hand through his hair; he   
away as much as he could, but the chains held him to her   
bidding. "It's not a ceremony, really," she said, leaning those   
scarlet lips close to his face, "more like a sacrifice." Her   
dark red eyes stared at me as though she would swallow me whole.   
"You see, girlie, once a year a turn someone and let them feed   
on the Lamb of Isis."  
  
"Lamb of Isis?" Mulder asked. I knew he was stalling for   
time.  
  
"One whom I have consecrated to the Goddess. The blood of a   
first Kill is very powerful. It gives me strength and beauty   
and power." She turned her gaze back to me. "And this year,   
the Lamb is you. I'm going to feed on your man here, girlie,   
until he hovers in the place between death and life. Then I   
will force my blood into him, give him a piece of my death to   
give him eternal life. When he changes, you will be the first   
thing he sees, and he will be the last thing you see."  
  
With that, she grabbed a handful of his hair and jerked his   
head to one side, exposing a long expanse of his neck. Even   
from where I sat, I could see the vein there jumping with fear.   
His eyes widened until the irises were surrounded by thick rims   
of white. She drew her head back like a cobra about to strike,   
and the buried her fangs deep in his throat.  
  
Blood gushed around her thick red lips, spilling in waves   
down his shirt. He stared at me while she sucked and gulped and   
the life slowly drained from him. He strained against the   
chains until I thought his wrists would shatter, and strange   
primitive fear sounds came from his throat, but still she did   
not stop. She didn't stop until the struggle left him and he   
sagged in those shackles, with his head rolling on his red-  
stained neck like a puppet whose strings had been cut.  
The entire time I fought the chains that held me, pulled   
until the thick cuffs bruised, until I bled with the struggle   
and cried out in a mixture of pain and fury and helplessness.   
"Mulder!"  
  
She pulled away from him slowly, licking her lips and getting   
every ruby droplet she could. Blood trickled down her chin and   
dripped onto the shimmer of her dress. She extended one slim   
arm and drew a knife from some hidden fold. With barely a   
flinch, she drove the blade into her arms and jerked until her   
blood flowed freely. She held it to him like a gift, and he   
turned away weakly. She grabbed his hair again, pulled his head   
back, and used one finger to pry apart his lips. Blood ran down   
her arm and dripped into his protesting mouth, and trailed her   
finger down his throat to make him swallow. Immediately, he   
writhed in pain, as though some great fire was burning inside of   
him. He strained against his shackles until the metal creaked   
and groaned. He screamed, a dark, animal sound from somewhere   
deep inside, and then sagged back against the wall. He lifted   
heavy eyes, and what I saw in them contained no trace of the   
Mulder I knew. This was a monster in his skin.  
  
"It is done," she said through her sanguine lips. She put   
one hand on his shoulder and he gazed up at her with adoring   
eyes. "He is mine." She leaned into him and whispered   
something soft in his ear. His eyes turned to me with a pure   
animal hunger. Still conjuring in his ear, she unlocked his   
cuffs, but her voice held him in place. When the chains lay in   
rusted piles on the bloody floor, she said just loud enough for   
me to hear, "Go."  
  
He was upon me instantly, using his weight to pin my legs. I   
had never feared him before, even when he pointed a gun at my   
head. Now he had no weapon but his demon face and fangs,   
pressed so close to me that I could smell her blood on his   
breath. "Happy birthday, Scully," he snarled, and drove his   
teeth into my flesh.  
  
It hurt. It hurt so bad I thought the pain alone would knock   
me out. I felt his fangs wiggle inside me, thrust deeper and   
deeper until I thought they would come out the other side. His   
tongue caressed the edges of the wound almost delicately,   
lapping at my veins like a kitten with a bowl of milk. My own   
blood gush hotly down my chest and back, and scalding tears   
streamed down my face as I screamed wordlessly. I could only   
think, my Mulder is going to kill me.  
  
Suddenly his body spasmed on top of mine, and he jerked his   
teeth out of me, tearing the flesh. He fell to one side and I   
saw an arrow sticking out of his left shoulder. A voice across   
the room muttered, "Damn, missed."  
  
I turned my head, lack of blood bringing back those brilliant   
colors before my eyes. I caught a flashing image of the female   
vampire with an arrow protruding from her chest, and then she   
was gone in a puff of dust. Across the room, some little blonde   
girl with a crossbow...but the blood loss was beginning to burn   
and the world took on soft dark edges. I heard myself sigh   
before it overtook me, "Don't kill him."  
  
7.  
  
I knelt before the Goddess, struggling to breathe past the   
scream building in my throat. The memories, so raw and fresh...I   
could still feel the shackles biting my flesh and the cold hard   
fangs draining my life away. I didn't even realize I was crying   
until the first tear splashed onto the unforgiving floor. Then   
my sadness lit my cheeks on fire with liquid diamonds, scalding   
as they fell, filling those little lines around my mouth so I   
could taste their bitterness. I sobbed until I felt my heart   
would shatter like a mirror, each piece reflecting back at me   
all those things I could have done, should have done. If only I   
hadn't been so annoyed, if only I'd drawn my gun a second   
earlier, if only, if only.  
  
I heaved dry sobs when no more tears would come. I pounded   
the floor until my hands hurt, until they bruised and scraped   
against the stone and still the pain inside was worse. I   
screamed his name with everything in me, poured all my pain and   
anguish into that one word. Something cried out from deep   
inside me, howling at the injustice of it all.  
  
Her hand upon my head stopped it all. Her touch radiated   
coolness and something akin to love or understanding. She   
stroked my hair with all the love of a mother and I lifted my   
starving eyes to her. The Goddess knelt before me, all   
shimmering beauty and ethereal grace, and she embraced me while   
I cried.  
  
Eternity passed before I gained some semblance of control   
over myself. I pulled from her arms and she let me. I rubbed   
the tears from my face and gazed up at her as she stood. She   
looked down upon me, no longer a caring mother but an all-  
knowing Goddess. "Despite what he did to you, what he wanted to   
do for you, you still wish to save him?"  
  
The strength of my voice surprised me. "Yes."  
  
"Very well," she answered in her golden tongue. "You are my   
Lamb, my willing sacrifice. You have consecrated yourself to me   
through your tears and the cries of your heart. Your pain is   
pure and so is your blood. You are Blessed before me now. With   
your blood, he shall be cleansed."  
  
I nodded, head bowed, and picked up the dagger lying just in   
front of my knees. It looked so simple lying there, its sheen   
dulled by the light of the Goddess. The metal was surprisingly   
cool in my hand, and it seemed to weigh nothing and everything   
at once. The weight of my love for him gleamed in its blade and   
I smiled at me tear-stained reflection. He would be free.   
  
"With my blood, he is cleansed."  
  
I pointed the knife at my stomach and it made a tiny little   
dent in the cloth of my blouse. My muscles contracted away from   
it, afraid though my mind said not to be. I knew what happened   
when someone was stabbed in the stomach, what it did to the   
organs. Still, the blood loss would kill me first. I knew   
this, and I shook with terror as I drove the blade in deep.  
Hot blood gushed around my hands, making the knife slick. It   
hurt so much and I screamed in spite of myself. I collapsed to   
the floor, curled around the wound as my own blood spread in a   
puddle all around me.  
  
I glimpsed the sky above me through fallen stones in the   
ceiling. Stars glittered in the velvet black and seemed to rush   
and recede, warp as though glimpsed through running water. The   
pain seeped away and things grew still. My body was something   
distant, a memory being pushed aside. I hardly felt it when he   
wrapped his arms around me.  
  
"God, Scully, what did you do?" The fear in his voice   
brought me back a little, just enough to see his anguished face   
through me star-kissed vision.  
  
"Mulder, is that you?"  
  
He brushed a few strands of hair from my face, and I felt his   
fingers slick with blood. I coughed, and something warm   
trickled from my lips. "You can't leave me," he whispered,   
voice thick with tears. A few fell onto my face, hot and cold   
at the same time.  
  
"You're free now, Mulder...my blood, you're clean...Don't you   
see? I'm the Lamb, you're lamb...it's always been this way..." My   
breath faded, but I could have spoken volumes and he would not   
have understood.  
  
"Please, hang on," he pleaded. A few more tears fell, and I   
realized that I was crying, too.  
  
I summoned all the strength left in me and lifted my head the   
few inches it took to touch my lips to his. When I fell back, a   
few drops of my blood clung to his soft lips. He didn't try to   
lick them away.  
  
"I love you, Mulder."  
  
"I love you, too." He began to sob, cradling my numb body in   
his arms.  
  
"Isn't it beautiful?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"The light. It's so pretty..."  
  
8.  
  
The lighted flickered and blinked, fizzling in and out of my   
vision. It was less bright now, not the sheer brilliance of a   
moment ago. It seemed less real and harsher somehow, cold like   
fluorescent lighting. I realized then that I was no longer   
staring at the sublime gate but rather the bare bulbs of a   
hospital ceiling. Thing slowly came into focus until I could   
make out blurry images of the little tiles.  
  
My body came to me with the sluggishness of a drugged sleep.   
My muscles ached, stiff from lack of use; I tried to move my   
fingers, but it was as if I knew them only remotely. A tightness   
around my stomach let me know that I was wrapped in bandages,   
and the strange feeling behind my eyes told me I was on heavy   
painkillers. I turned my head enough to see an IV bag hanging   
above me attached to the needle in my arm. I felt like there was   
cotton in my ears; sounds came to me dull as if from far away. I   
focused and they began to become clearer. The steady beep of a   
heart monitor, a distant dripping, quiet conversations out in   
the hallways.   
  
I turned my head the other way and saw Mulder sitting in one   
of those straight-backed hospital chairs that never matched   
anything else in the room. His clothes looked rumpled, his hair   
disheveled, as if he had slept in that chair for a few nights in   
a row. His head was tilted so I couldn't see his face. I felt   
a surge of joy when I saw that he was sitting next to an open   
window, sunlight streaming through and dancing in his hair.  
  
I tried to clear my throat but managed only a painful   
squeaking sound. The second time was easier and he turned to   
face me at the sound. The look on his face was pure relief.   
"Scully, oh, thank God." He moved from the chair and knelt   
beside me, laying his head on the blankets by my arm. His hand   
on mine was warm.  
  
"Mulder?" It hurt to speak, and my voice sounded raspy in my   
head.  
  
He stroked my hand with his thumb. "I'm here." He smiled a   
watery smile. "I thought I'd never see those eyes again," he   
said as he held a cup of water to my lips. It cooled my throat   
and took away the sandpaper in my voice.  
  
"Where am I?"  
  
"Sunnydale General. You've been here for over a week...the   
doctors didn't know if you would make it."  
  
"Mulder, are you..?" I didn't want to say the words.  
  
"One hundred percent, fully-alive, demon-free human. Thanks   
to you. Scully, why did you have to do that? Giles said that a   
lamb--"  
  
"No, it had to be me. I don't think I can make you   
understand, but I'm the only one that could have saved you." I   
tried to think of some way to make him see, but words failed me   
and I could only stare into his eyes. "It couldn't be a lamb,   
it had to be the Lamb."  
  
"I'm just so glad you're gonna be okay." He pressed my hand   
to his lips. "I missed you."  
  
I smiled as the door opened. Giles, Buffy, and the gang   
shuffled in, looking sheepish and bearing balloons. Willow   
placed a small bouquet of flowers in the vase by my bed, which I   
now noticed was full of blossoms in various stages of wilting.   
"Get Well" cards littered the small table.  
  
"You're awake!" Willow cried, smiling breaking out across her   
face.  
  
"Apparently," I answered. "Thanks for the flowers."  
  
"You're welcome." She stepped back into the comfort of the   
group. I got the feeling they weren't in hospitals much, at   
least not as often as the morgue. The thought made me shudder.  
"We just wanted to see how you were doing," Buffy said.  
  
"Indeed. Um, I'm curious to know what actually happened   
during the ritual. Did you have any visions or--"  
  
"Giles, shut up." Buffy, of course. "Let her be able to   
stand before you bombard her with your little 'I'm curious to   
know's."  
  
"Of course, sorry." He looked at me from behind those little   
glasses and I could see him fighting the urge to ask anyway.  
  
"As soon as I'm outta here, I'll give you a full report," I   
assured him.  
  
"We should go now. I'm bored," said Anya, blunt as usual.   
Everyone glared at her.  
  
"It's okay, you don't have to stay."  
  
"Fine," Xander said, "but as soon as you're up to it, I   
challenge you to a game of celebratory foosball."  
  
They tied the balloons to the bedside table and left.  
  
"We're never going to be rid of them, are we?" I asked   
Mulder.  
  
He looked at me with his serious face. "Scully, I want to   
ask you something." His eyes were fragile.  
  
"What is it, Mulder?"  
  
"Did you really mean what you said when I found you? Do you   
really...love me?" He gazed at me with his puppy dog eyes, and it   
frightened me to know how completely his heart was in my hands.  
  
I swallowed hard and stared at my fingers, not wanting to   
meet his eyes. It was a moment before I answered. "Yes."  
  
I looked up to see his face very close to mine. His smile   
melted my heart. "You don't know how long I've waited to hear   
you say that." He leaned in to kiss me, barely a chaste brush   
of lips and the whisper of his breath. "I'm so in love with   
you."  
  
He played with the hair near my face, twisting it around his   
fingers and tucking it behind my ear. His thumb caressed my   
cheek, and when it came back wet I realized I was crying. He   
wiped the tears from my face and cradled my cheek in his hand.  
This kiss was deeper, more intimate. His tongue flicked   
against my bottom lip and I let him in, letting him probe my   
mouth and doing the same to him. We explored each other for a   
few moments and he pulled back first. "When you're better."  
  
He wrapped his arms around me, hopping up on the bed a little   
so that his body was pressed against mine. I snuggled into him   
and vowed to heal as quickly as possible. Things between us   
would never be perfect. I would never understand his lust for   
the unknown, and he would never understand my "goddam strict   
rationalism and science." There would always been little things   
to argue about and big things to fight about. But I knew in my   
heart that we'd find a way to be together. I had cheated death   
for him and he had found life through me. He had tasted my   
blood and I had given it freely. Our bond was deeper than   
friendship, deeper than love. He was mine and I was his,   
always. I wrapped this thought around me as I drifted to sleep,   
snuggled into his warmth and the gentle beating of his human   
heart.  
  
THE END 


End file.
